Just A Girl
by something-like-love
Summary: WIP. 100 stories about Ariana Dumbledore for 100 Quills. Take a journey through her life as she acts... like a normal teenager, surprisingly enough. Does laundry, argues with her brothers, daydreams about Gellert Grindelwad... Just a normal girl.
1. Sarcasm

**Disclaimer: **JKR owns. Bow before my inherently witty disclaimer.

**Author's Note: **This is a response to the 100 Quills challenge on LiveJournal—I claimed Ariana Dumbledore, obviously. Haha, I am totally insane.

--

_sarcasm_

--

Ariana looked up at her elder brother with wide eyes, the soft, silky fabric of the nightgown she held in her hands bunching together. "Mine, Al? Mine?"

Albus turned around from where he had been half-facing the stove and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. Ariana decided that he did that a lot. "No, Ari," he drawled, "it's mine."

She shrugged and tossed it into the laundry basket beside his trousers; Albus' face became horrified.

"Of course it isn't mine!" he snapped. Ariana, instead of whimpering from the irritation in his eyes, drew up to her full height (which was still considerably shorter than Al, however), and glared at him.

"You said!"

"I was being sarcastic," Albus told her, turning back to the stove and the simmering sauce that was cooking there. "Sarcastic is when you say things and mean the opposite." Ariana frowned and flung the nightgown—which was actually very pretty, in her opinion—beside her own pile of clothes in the basket.

"Stupid," she muttered to herself. She flicked her fingers sharply against Albus' neck as she walked past him. She didn't feel bad about it. After all, what kind of person said things they didn't mean?

Maybe it was some grown-up thing.


	2. History

**Author's Note: **Two fics in two days? Must be record!

--

_history_

--

"In eighteen hundred… oh, I forget, many years ago, anyway—Vlad had gone to fight against the vampires. Bloodthirsty creatures, I'm sure your brother has told you. He stayed there fighting them for months on end; I could hardly wait for his return…"

Ariana sighed very softly and took a sip of tea. It scalded her lips, and she set it down quickly. Miss Bathilda had been going on for ages—she was not going to be talking to Abe when she finally got home, that was for sure. Why had he made her come over here? It was boring, and boring was no fun at all. He had told her it was because Miss Bathilda's husband (who might've been the Vlad she was currently talking about) had died so long ago, and she was lonely. But how could she be lonely? Gellert lived here too. She gave another, slightly petulant, sigh, and wished that Gellert was here right now instead of out with Al.

"And then after the vampires, well, Vlad had to have something to do, you know, so he decided to go and study the goblins, and they hate being studied—makes them feel attacked, I believe… anyway, that's why they decided to burn him at the stake…"

Ariana coughed quietly. The many candles that inhabited Miss Bathilda's house did nothing for her still slightly-stuffy nose, and she raised her sleeve to wipe it.

"Oh, no, no, no, lovely! Use a handkerchief!" Ariana jumped slightly as a smooth square of fabric waved in front of her face. She took it and dabbed at her nose, which had been running for several days, with a soft "Thank you."

"No trouble at all, dear," Miss Bathilda replied cheerfully.

"Tea?" she asked, setting down her empty cup on the table between them. A woeful look appeared on Miss Bathilda's face.

"Oh, we're out of tea! How could I have not noticed? Don't you worry, lovely, I'll make us some more."

"Help," Ariana said, making to stand up. The older woman gently pressed her shoulder and sat her back down with a few motherly clucks. She patted her head where the wind had turned her locks to tangled curls and smiled— Ariana decided that she liked it much better when Gellert did it.

"Oh, no, no, dear, that's quite all right. You just stay here for a while. I'll be right back." Tutting quietly under her breath, she swept into the kitchen. Ariana waited until then to let distaste blossom over her face—why was she never allowed to help Miss Bathilda? Even _Al _had her fold laundry almost every day; she was perfectly capable. Why did Miss Bathilda always treat her like she was so delicate, and have her simply sit here, drinking warm, too-sweet tea, listening to her life's history? It wasn't fair.

Scowling, Ariana leaned back in her chair. She could hear the hiss of a kettle in the kitchen, and picked absently at a hole in her dress. It had been there for ages, right on her hip— if she looked carefully enough, she could see the pale tone of her skin underneath.

Just as she resolved to ask Al to mend it with his wand when she got home, there was a great bang behind her and a sudden rush of cold air. She whipped around just as a familiar voice called, "Auntie?"

"Gellert!" She stood up and saw Geller standing just inside the doorway, peeling off his cloak. His blond hair was dripping from the rain she could hear pounding down outside, and he smiled when he saw her. Her stomach got an odd fluttery feeling in it, and she pressed a hand there.

"Hello Ariana. You've come to visit my aunt, yes?" Ariana nodded and sat back down in her chair as Gellert drew closer— Miss Bathilda, unnaturally deaf as she was, could be heard humming softly in the kitchen, having not noticed her nephew come inside. Gellert reclined on the sofa beside her chair, and pushed out his hands so that they were as near to the fire burning in the grate as possible without him having to move.

"I do hope," he said to her, "that she has not been boring you too much. She's a nice woman, I do admit, but her stories leave much to be desired." Ariana shook her head, smiling.

"Nice."

"I should hope so." They were quiet for a few moments. Gellert drew his hands back and glanced at his aunt's form in the kitchen. He leaned towards her conspiratorially, and said in a half-whisper, "I wonder how long it shall take her to realise I am here. Perhaps she really has gone batty." Ariana pressed a hand to her mouth and giggled. Gellert was very funny, she decided. Abe always told her not to call Miss Bathilda batty, like Al did.

"Ariana!" the older woman sang, and Gellert drew back onto the sofa, winking at her. She gave him a small smile. "I have the tea, dear." Miss Bathilda bustled into the room, not sparing Gellert a glance. His eyebrows rose, and he barely moved. Ariana took the dainty teacup handed to her.

"Thank you."

"Hello, Auntie!" Gellert said suddenly, a cheerful smile on his face. Miss Bathilda gasped and turned around, her hands covering her mouth. Ariana knew she shouldn't find it funny, but she couldn't help laughing at the look on the woman's face.

"Gellert!" Miss Bathilda scolded, her breathing heavy, "how could you scare your poor Auntie like that? Honestly!"

"I didn't mean it, Auntie," he comforted, leaning back into the soft cushions of the sofa. "Please don't be angry. You didn't hear me enter. I apologize."

Miss Bathilda shook her head and took her seat across from Ariana once more. "He's a very naughty boy, sometimes," she told her—Ariana nodded solemnly. Gellert grinned. "Now, where was I before all of these interruptions? Ah, yes, when Vlad was almost burnt at the stake. You see, lovely, there was a goblin named Fortitude…"

As she dropped back into her habit of long, rambling stories, Ariana decided that she didn't mind listening to the woman's life history—so long as Gellert was there too, after all.

* * *

A/N: Review! 


	3. Letters

**Author's Note: **There you are, Cuba, three fics in three days! Let's see if I can make it to four fics in four days without, y'know, dying… And, a huge thank you to everyone who reviews, because you make me so happy. This is my personal favorite of the bunch so far, though I haven't tried writing letters between characters before- please tell me if it's all wonky :)

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_letters_

--

_Dear Gellert,_

_I have missed you. Al is helping me write you a letter to tell you that I have missed you. He's writing down what I say. I can say any word and he will write it—nitwit! See? Isn't that funny, Gellert? _

_I hope you will come back and visit soon. I think Al hopes so too. He keeps telling me not to say that, but he promised to write whatever I said, so he has to. Blubber! He has to write that down too. I think it's a funny word. Al says it's stupid. Actually, he said it's b-l-o-o-d-y stupid. I can't say that word, because it's naughty. I don't see why he can say it and I can't, though. _

_Maybe your Auntie will let you come back soon. I miss you very, very, very, very much (I had to stop saying 'very' because Al says he wasn't going to write down a hundred million 'very's. I think that's silly, because no-one can say 'very' a hundred million times). _

_Please write back soonly. _

_(Al says soonly is not a word, and Abe says so too, but I like it a whole lot.)_

_Love, _

_Ariana_

_--_

_Dear Ariana,_

_I was pleased to find that you had written me. Albus has written me quite a few times, but there's nothing like getting a letter from you. _

_My Auntie says that I may come to see you all again very soon (soonly!). Tell Albus that I hope so, too. It is quite boring around the house with only Auntie Bathilda to talk too. It's nothing like speaking with you and your brother._

_I have included a photograph of myself that Auntie Bathilda snapped when I wasn't paying attention. I think it looks—horridly? That word does not look right. Perhaps I am mixing up the tenses? Bah to English words, I say! They are confusing—I much prefer to say that the photograph makes me look _wie eine alberne Ziege! _(Please let your elder brother knows that that means 'like a silly goat.' And do apologise to Aberforth if that offends him.)_

_Rest assured, Ariana, that I have missed you as much as you have missed me._

_Take care,_

_Gellert _

_--_

_Dear Gellert,_

_Ariana is dead asleep—at barely ten o' clock! Usually she's up until midnight. But Aberforth took her out into the garden to-day; tired her out completely. I'll be lucky to get her up by eight in the morning, tomorrow._

_I am writing in lieu of Ari. She was pleased beyond words when she received your reply, and I thought it best to write you myself and translate her childish babbling—the gist of it is that she misses you very, very, very, very, very, VERY much, and wishes that you would come soon. She adores the photograph, as well, and has gone around the house shouting _wie eine alberne Ziege _for days. It's becoming quite the irritant, to tell you the truth. _

_The actual photograph she hung in her bedroom, beside a couple of snapshots of she and myself a few years ago. She enjoys it immensely._

_All of us hoping you shall come to visit soon(ly),_

_Albus_

_--_

_Dear Gellert,_

_I cannot believe Al already wrote to you! It made me so mad. I wanted to write to you myself. He says he is sorry, but I don't believe him. _

_I think you look pretty in the photograph. Al and Abe laughed at that, I don't know why. Abe says that boys can't be pretty. Why not? I think you look pretty. Maybe I'm saying it wrong. I think you look well? That doesn't sound right either. _

_Perhaps you will stop by soonly. That is my favorite word—I love saying it. Please, please, please, please write back to me. I miss you a whole lot. _

_Love,_

_Ariana_

_--_

_Dear Ariana,_

_Don't be angry with your brother— I am sure he is very sorry for making you upset. _

_I am also very pleased you think me pretty. A compliment, coming from you! May I please have a photograph of you and Albus and Aberforth? I think it would be very nice to hang up in my bedroom. _

_Have you really been speaking in German, like Albus said in his letter? You know, I could help you to learn some more words if you would like. Would you like to learn how to speak in German? I know that it makes my Auntie angry when I babble on in my native tongue too often. (And, Albus does not understand the language, nor does Aberforth! Wouldn't you like to be better at something than them?)_

_I promise, I will visit soonly! Auntie is keeping me busy with household chores—she has not had a male around since Uncle died, and I have been doing much work. _

_Yours,_

_Gellert_

--

_Dear Gellert,_

_I made up with Al. He apologized lots and lots and looked sad, so I gave him a kiss and made him feel better._

_I chose a photograph from the piles Al has in his room to send to you. He really let me come into his room to see them! Isn't that neat? He said that I needed to tell you the date it was taken: December 24__th__, 1898. That's Christmas Eve last year, when Al and Abe were home from Hogwarts. See the lady standing beside us? That's Mama. I think Abe looks a whole lot like her. _

_Yes! I would love for you to teach me some German! I can already say _gehen sie_— that means 'go.' And I say that Al looks like a silly goat. That is very funny. _

_Please tell your Auntie that we all miss you. _

_Love,_

_Ariana_

_P.S. See you soonly!_

--

_Dear Ariana,_

_I am glad to hear that you and Albus have made up. Thank you very much for the photograph—I showed it to Auntie, and she said it was 'darling.' Your mother looks like a very lovely woman, and I agree, Aberforth does resemble her quite a lot. I think you look lovely, too—a very pretty smile._

_Of course; when I finally do come over, I will begin teaching you. German is not nearly as complex a language as English, you know. However, I think I am becoming better at speaking you and Albus' language. I can even say your alphabet backwards! Z, Y, X, W, V… etcetera, etcetera. I don't believe you can get the full effect from writing. Ah well. When I visit, I will show you and Albus, and Aberforth, if he so wishes._

_My Auntie just came into the room, and I told her that the Dumbledore family wanted me to visit—she says I may come tomorrow! _

_Seeing you soonly,_

_Gellert _

_--_

_Dear Gellert,_

_I had to hurry and make Al write this for me, because if I don't it will get to you too late. I am very happy you're coming tomorrow! That's very, very soonly. We'll all have lots of fun when you get here, and maybe Al can take out the photographs again (Al said, "Don't bet on it." I guess that means "We'll see.") _

_Please show me how you say the alphabet backwards! I think that's amazing, because I can't even say it the regular way. That's why Al and sometimes Abe have to read all your letters to me._

_I'm also very glad that you liked the photograph. It makes me happy that you say I have a pretty smile. I don't think Abe likes it, though, because he snorted like one of his goats when he read that part. (Al started laughing really hard when I told him to write that down. It must be something only boys understand.) But somehow I thought that I would look like Mama, since we're both girls. Al says that I look like Daddy more, though. He left a whole lot longer ago than Mama did, and I've seen photographs of him—we both have curly hair and blue eyes. Maybe that's it._

_I miss you a lot. I'm glad you're coming tomorrow._

_Love,_

_Ariana_

--

A/N: I used to have pretty fonts for the signatures, but they went away... sigh...


	4. Family

**Author's Note: **Haha, four fic in four days! And, lucky us, I have another one for tomorrow that I dug up from the drudges of my computer. That'll make it five in five :) I wonder how long I can keep this up…

* * *

"I can _do _it," Ariana insisted, frowning when her older brother attempted to pull away the pair of socks she had been carefully knitting. 

"Let me help you," Aberforth coaxed, sliding over to he sat beside her on the worn couch. Ariana shook her head violently. Why couldn't he understand that she could do it by herself?

"Present," she said stubbornly, digging her finger beneath a thread to pop it out. She was _going _to do this all alone, with no help from _anyone. _Couldn't Abe remember Daddy saying that you had to fight your own battles? Well, she wasn't really sure what that meant, but these socks were certainly a battle, so she took the meaning as such.

"Present," she repeated to herself, her tongue poking from between her lips in concentration. Abe sighed.

"I know," he said soothingly, "but Albus won't really mind if I help you a tiny bit, don't you think?" Ariana shook her head. Al's birthday was still . . . she craned her neck to see the cheerful calendar hanging on the wall opposite. It wasn't really all that useful— she always forgot that she had purposefully kept the page turned to the month before, because the moving photo of kittens was so lovely she couldn't bear to see it go.

"Two weeks away," Abe supplied, seeing his sister look towards the calendar. Ariana nodded.

"Time," she told him calmly, before violently ripping out a line of stitches, perfectly betraying her mood. Aberforth sighed before carefully and subtly flicking his wand at her work so the yarn was no longer frayed but neat and clean.

"Abe!" Ariana shrieked, looking crestfallen. "No, no, no. Cancel, cancel."

"Why did Albus ever try that stupid thing?" Aberforth muttered to himself, undoing his previous work quickly. Albus had read in one of his trusted books about a program from mentally challenged— though that was far from what Ariana was! –children, that taught them to cancel out anything bad they did by repeating the word instead of exploding. Unfortunately, Ariana had taken to using the phrase whenever her siblings did something she was not pleased with, too, like when Albus burnt the eggs at breakfast one morning. Aberforth smirked when he remembered an afternoon several days before when she had shaken her head sadly at Gellert, who had agreed to play jacks with her before losing spectacularly, and saying, "Cancel, cancel, bad Gellert."

"Red?" Ariana questioned. Abe looked at her exasperatedly.

"Ari, don't you think you should finish that line with yellow?" he said reasonably. Ariana shook her head, causing her long tangles of hair to fall softly from the ribbon Albus had tied it back with.

"Red," she said once more, holding her hand out expectantly. Inwardly rolling his eyes, Aberforth complied, giving her the circle of red yarn.

"How many colours have you got on there now?" Abe asked interestedly. Ariana looked carefully over her socks, which, if he was being honest, resembled some sort of shapeless blobs.

"Four, six, eight," she counted, completely ignoring the odd numbers. For reasons neither Albus, Aberforth, nor even Gellert could comprehend, she despised odd numbers, though Gellert only knew this because she had counted the buttons on his cloak and come up with sixty four. It was commonplace for Albus to quickly calculate what the real number was, and Aberforth attempted to do this when Ariana told him there were twelve colours.

"You mean six," he corrected gently. She nodded absently before returning to her work. Several peaceful moments passed, which Aberforth was grateful for, but knew it would not last— peace was not long when Ariana was around.

He was correct. "Oh!" she gasped irritably, undoing yet another line of her careful work. Her eyes brimmed with tears, and Aberforth moved over beside her, patting her back soothingly and attempting to slide the socks from her hands to his.

"No!" Ariana screeched loudly, tugging them back. "I can _do it!_" Hastily, Aberforth moved away from her; there were times she needed to be rocked and comforted, and times she needed to blow off rage. This was obviously the latter.

She went back stubbornly to Albus' birthday present. Privately, Aberforth didn't think his older brother was worth it.

--

"Happy birthday!" Ariana said gleefully, dragging the still half-asleep Albus into the kitchen.

"Happy birthday," Aberforth repeated dully, rubbing his eyes. He had thought his sister would grow out of the habit of waking them all up at dawn on occasions she deemed important.

"Th-th-thanks," Albus yawned, running a hand through his hair carelessly. "Can I go back to bed now?" Ariana shook her head.

"No, no," she said, rushing to the table, where she had laid out her present carefully the night before. "Present, Al, present." Albus looked surprised when she shoved the package into his hands.

"Open," Ariana urged; she had let Abe help her wrap the present, and was quite pleased at the lovely shade of yellow she had chosen for the paper. "Open, Al. Present."

"Okay, okay," Albus muttered, stripping the paper off of the present. His brow furrowed when he had finished.

"Oh, erm, thanks, Ari. They're nice."

"On, Al, on," she ordered, her small hands flying everywhere in excitement. Albus looked to Aberforth, who sighed.

"Yes, Albus, why don't you put on your wonderful new _socks?_" he said deliberately, and his brother flashed him a grin before pulling the material onto his feet and smiling warmly at his sister.

"Made them myself," Ariana informed him proudly. "Made them myself."

--


	5. Corruption

**Author's Note: **Here be part five :) Thanks again to all those who reviewed. And Cuba, yeah, the last chapter I had posted for a short amount of time before I thought of some stuff I wanted to add, things I wanted to change, etc. And I just never got around to putting back up.

**Warning!** This chapter contains references to rape.

--

_corruption_

--

_"So Rabbity Babitty hopped alone," _Ariana sang to herself, wiggling her toes in the clear lake water before her. _"Down to the stream where he made his home." _She looked up at the sky, streaked with all hues of pink and orange, and scrabbled to her feet. Mama had told her to come back to the house before dusk, and it was getting near time. Not bothering to continue her song along the way, Ariana half ran, half skipped, through the light smattering of trees surrounding the back of her house. Only when she could see its warm yellow paint peeking over the evergreens did she pause and peer towards the sky, pleased to find that she still had a few minutes before dusk settled around her.

Ariana sat down in the cool grass, playing absently with a leaf to her side. She would much rather be out in the warm autumn breeze than inside the house, watching Albus and Aberforth play wizard's chess and telling her she was too little to play, and watching Mama cook dinner expertly with her wand and telling her she was too little to help.

_"Down by the stream he made his friends," _she sang quietly, picking up her song where she had left off. It was one of her favourites. _"This is where Rabbity Babbity's sweet tale ends." _For a moment Ariana was silent, a little disappointed she had reached the end of the song, yet not quite ready to sing it again. It was a long song, after all, and just last week she had had a sore throat. Her nose wrinkled delicately as she remembered the horrid medicine Mama had ordered from St. Mungo's— the gritty substance reminded her of when Albus had dared her to drink some of the water from the earthier, muddier side of the lake one afternoon.

_"All the garden gnomes went out to play- how many got, thrown away?" _she chimed on inspiration, recalling a came of skipping rope she had played with the girls from neighboring houses once before using that rhyme. With a small smirk, Ariana thought smugly of the fact that a whole ten of her gnomes had gotten thrown away, while Ethel had only thrown away two measly gnomes.

Lacking a skipping rope, however, made that rhyme become boring quickly, and absently she picked daisies from their sparse populations in the grass. Of course, regular daisies didn't bloom until well into spring at Mould-on-the-Wold, but Daddy had found a special kind at the Herbology Shop in Diagon Alley that would stay put all year round. Ariana had been delighted with them, and ever since daisies were a common sight in the Dumbledore family's backyard.

Barely paying attention, Ariana began to weave the stems together expertly, a lone skill that only she possessed. She had tried to teach Al and Abe how to weave daisy crowns, but Al had proclaimed it too childish, and Abe had gotten frustrated after his second ruined crown, and they had both been content to let her have this small victory in life, being the only one able to make crowns out of flowers.

The sky grew steadily darker. Twilight was passing before her eyes; Ariana dutifully twisting the stems together one by one, intent on finished her treasure. Finally she looked up, anguished to find that it was nearly time for her to go home, lest Mama become angry with her for staying out too late. However, she found it difficult to leave her half-finished crown lonely and abandoned on the floor of the woods, so she compromised by weaving faster. When this only served to make her hurried fingers fumble and snap several stems, Ariana sighed piteously and stared hard at her crown, willing it to spin itself together.

And it did.

She gasped and leaned closer as something coursed from inside of her out into the open air, swelling across the grass until it reached its destination of the crown, and Ariana thought she saw a sparkle of _something _hit the daisies, but she couldn't be sure—whatever it was, it was twining the daisy stems together faster than she ever could have, neater than she ever could have. She became conscious of the fact that she was holding her hand out towards the flowers, and something innate told her not to drop her hand, lest the thing stop weaving.

For several glorious moments, Ariana simply sat and watched her crown create itself. When the final two stems had secured themselves together, she was anguished as the crown slowly went limp on the ground. The thing, the spark, was glimmering, about to leave forever.

"Don't go," she murmured, reaching out.

"Hey!"

She whipped around, her fingers clenching around her treasure. She felt several petals fall off in her hand, brushing against her fingers with a smooth silkiness.

"Hey, did you see what she just did?!"

Ariana looked around frantically—it was now fully dark, and the voices seemed to be coming from different directions. She strained her eyes, trying to see past the trees and bushes that were surrounding her. Mama was going to be angry when she got home so late.

"What the hell?"

Suddenly there were hands on her shoulders. Ariana twisted around, knocking the hands away from her, scrabbling not to crush her crown beneath her as she fell back into a sitting position.

"What did you just do?"

Her eyes still wrenched from place to place, trying to discern human shape from shadows. She knew that there was someone standing above her, and he had a voice that was low and gravelly—but besides that, nothing.

"I asked you what you did!"

All Ariana had time to note was that the boy's voice sounded oddly frightened before there was a stinging sensation on her cheek—she gave a small cry and fell farther, so that she was lying on her back, her daisy crown still clutched desperately in her hand, which was twisted strangely up into the blue-black sky.

"What's up with her?"

The other voice was high and quick, but still most definitely male. Ariana breathed in deeply, not trying to move. Her arms were shaking, and she thought she might fall again. There was a heavy feeling in her stomach, and her dress was skewed over to the side of her legs.

"Hey, girl!"

She felt herself being dragged up onto her feet by a rough hand. The voice that spoke this time was loud and booming, and it made her heart flip inside her chest. What would Al do?

Her knees were barely able to hold her up. "She's gonna fall again."

"So sit her up."

"Fine!"

There was a strange place inside her brain, Ariana discovered at that moment, which allowed her to completely remove herself from what was happening. She didn't know what exactly what was going on, but she did know that it was making bile rise in her throat. Mama would be mad at her.

She was pushed against a tree so her legs wouldn't give way. It was uncomfortable, but that place inside her brain didn't let her feel that. Odd. She would have to tell Al and Abe about it.

"What the hell is wrong with her? She's not moving."

"Who cares? She's just some freak."

"I bet she's retarded."

"Well then, she won't remember this."

Her shoulder was cold, chillingly, bitingly, cold. From that special place in her mind, Ariana couldn't tell that this was because her dress had been ripped off and pulled down her arm. There were spots of coolness all along her collarbone—her eyes closed automatically. She hoped Mama wouldn't be too bad.

"Get back, let me have a turn."

The rest of her was cold, too. Her dress was ripping, tearing, and Ariana drew in a shuddering breath. Maybe Al and Abe would finally teach her to place chess at home and she really wasn't feeling this at all and this place in her mind was wonderful she didn't feel one thing at all except just a little chilly and—

"No," she whimpered. Her whole entire body was freezing, and her back was still pressed against the tree, but it was bare, and there was bark scratching her. "No."

"Shut her up, would you?"

Ariana closed her eyes again. Maybe thing glimmering thing would come back and help her, please, let it come back and help her—

Her hands grew warm and she could feel her daisy crown under her bare foot. The petals were soft and smooth, and she prayed for the glimmering thing. Make this all go away.

"Holy _shit—_"

"What's coming out of her hand?!"

"Make her stop!"

Ariana gasped. A hand connected with her cheek again, and she stumbled away from the tree, falling onto her stomach. She felt several stems on her crown rip, and tears brimmed in her eyes.

"Is she normal?!"

"Maybe she's psycho."

"I'll bet she's a witch."

There was silence. Ariana was sure they heard her heart pounding—Mama said they weren't to tell people they were magic, and _oh, _Mama would be so happy to find out she did her first bit of it, all by herself…

"Hey." Someone forced her head up, her neck making a sickening crack. "Magic's evil, you know that, right?"

"No," she whispered, craning her head away. Anything to avoid looking at him. His hands were rough and made her shiver deep down into her bones.

"She has some serious problems."

"Magic's goddamn evil."

"So tell her that!"

One of them pulled her up by the arm, his fingers leaving cruel white marks on her skin. "Never—do—magic."

"No," she murmured again. Her mind felt dreamy, and she counted out the slaps to the face she received—one, two, three.

"Can she say anything else?"

"Let's find out."

Ariana tried desperately to reenter that safe place inside her head where she didn't feel anything besides numbness—but it was gone, slipped away, and all she felt was hard and hot and wet and _oh God that hurts so bad._

"_Stop!"_

--

When they were gone, all she could find of her daisy crown were bits and pieces and snippets strewn about the grass, coloured a sharp bright yellow that had never before made her eyes hurt so badly. She picked them up one by one, trying not to let the lightness burn her sight.

"Just like me," she giggled, strewing all the petals through the air, letting them tangle in her hair. She laughed madly, leaning against the tree that she could vaguely recall leaning on before. She ignored the blood streaked down the bark and cackled again.

_I'm a daisy. I'm a daisy. _

--

A/N: Oh Lord, that was way too angsty. The theme, I'm afraid, recurs, as the next chapter contains what happened before she went out into the woods, and what happened after she went home.


	6. Broken

--

_broken_

--

"Can I see my angel costume?" asked Ariana once again, her small fingers groping around the counter where her mother was supervising the sticky dough.

"Stop that. You'll get a biscuit after dinner, when they're finished," Kendra sighed, waving her wand distractedly. "And I've only just finished your costume. It's still three whole days until Halloween. You'll see it in good time."

"But Mama—"

"Run along and play with your brothers."

"Yes Mama."

Withdrawing her hand from its search for bits of dough, Ariana half skipped and half ran into the sitting room, where Albus and Aberforth were in the middle of another chess game.

"Abe," she said, standing impatiently beside him. "Abe, do you want to play pretend with me?"

"Not right now, Ari," Aberforth declined, staring at the chessboard with great intensity.

"Al?" she asked, tugging on her elder brother's cloak sleeve. He brushed away her hand absently.

"Later, Ariana," Albus said, pushing a rook slowly forward. His sister sighed loudly and flung herself into the chair beside him.

"Get down," he commanded.

"No," she pouted, blowing a strand of hair irritably off of her face. "Just one game?"

"Leave us alone, Ari," Aberforth said, deliberately pushing one of his pieces to the left. "When we're finished."

"Please?" Ariana begged, crawling onto Albus's lap. He frowned down at her.

"Get down, Ari."

"_Please?_"

"We said no!"

"Albus! Aberforth! Ariana! What are you doing?" Kendra's voice sounded from the kitchen sharply. All three children's heads snapped up.

"Sorry Mama," Ariana called demurely.

"Behave," was Kendra's stern answer.

"See that?" Abeforth said to his sister. "I told you, Albus and I are busy. Go play by yourself."

"Fine!" Ariana said haughtily. "If you won't play with me, I'll play alone." With that settled, she flounced out of the sitting room and back into the kitchen. Her mother barely looked up from where she was spinning her wand to twirl the dough together as she said, "I'm going into the garden, Mama."

"Be back by dusk," Kendra instructed. "And stay inside the garden. Don't go wandering into the streets."

"Yes Mama," Ariana agreed hurriedly, jumping up to try and reach her winter cloak. It rocketed into her hands with a wand's flick from her mother, and she grinned. "Bye-bye."

"Goodbye darling."

--

"Is she okay?" was all Kendra could manage to ask her husband as he came out of their daughter's bedroom.

To her dismay, Percival shook his head sadly. "I don't know, my dear. I just don't know." She let out a small gasp and leaned into his chest.

"Why don't you go in and see her?" Percival suggested softly. "Maybe she needs her mother." Kendra nodded mutely. Trying not to let her mind imagine all sorts of horrific things, she pushed open Ariana's bedroom door.

"Sweetheart?" she murmured, all but rushing to her bedside. Ariana looked just as she had when Percival had brought her inside from the garden—like nothing. Her wide blue eyes were staring blankly out the open window, which let a warm breeze waft through the small room.

"Darling?" she whispered again, sitting beside her daughter on the bed and running a hand through her tangled hair. Ariana jerked away, blank eyes becoming frightened.

"Dear heart, don't be afraid," Kendra soothed, her own heart breaking as she attempted to calm her daughter. Ariana whimpered softly and drew herself into a ball underneath the blankets.

"I know what would make you feel better," Kendra said suddenly, forcing fake cheer into her voice. "You know, I have your angel costume right here!" With a shaking hand, she drew her wand and summoned the item from her bedroom.

"Angel?" Ariana mumbled, and Kendra felt relief flood through her veins. She could still talk, at the very least.

"Yes. Look here, now." Delicately, Kendra unfolded the costume she had stitched together during spare moments. The long, silky white fabric tickled her daughter's hands, and was enchanted to sparkle softly.

"For Halloween," prompted Kendra, the phony joyfulness back in her voice. "An angel." Ariana didn't answer. "An angel, Ari, just like you wanted." Still, she remained silent.

"Sweetheart?" Kendra prodded. "Darling, did you hear? An angel, for Halloween."

Helplessly, she watched as Ariana's face lost the small spark of interest it had gained when she spoke of the costume. Slowly, her lovely face melted back into emptiness, and once again her eyes became glassy.

Three days later, on Halloween, she was still in bed, staring blankly out the window, not noticing her mother's tears.


	7. Young

**Author's Note: **I don't write Ari in first person POV often… that's Cuba's thing :P But it seemed like the only way to write this one. I think it's my personal favorite so far :)

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_young_

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I like taking naps with Al. He's big and he's warm and he complains when I lay down on him, but I know he doesn't mind because he never pushes me off like he does when Margarine, my kitten, crawls onto his chest. (When that happens, usually he starts saying bad words. If Mama heard him, she would have to wash his mouth of with soap for being naughty.)

Al says I'm too big to take naps, but you take naps when you're sleepy, and no one if ever too big to be sleepy, right? One time Abe said that maybe Al was so special he didn't have to sleep, but that's stupid, because everyone has to sleep. Now I remember, maybe Abe was using _sarcasm— _Al told me sarcasm is saying something you don't mean, and I know Abe really loves Al a lot, just like me, even though sometimes he says naughty words.

But I take a nap sometimes, when I stay up too late at night, and I wait until Al sits down on the sofa with his boring books and then I go and lay down on him. His hair is really long, it tickles my face, and I'm not sure why Al has such long hair if he's a boy. It doesn't go down nearly as long as mine, though, so that makes me happy.

Usually when I lay down on him, Al says, "Get off of me, Ari, I'm not a bed." And that makes me giggle and I think Al knows it, because he smiles just a little bit and doesn't bother me any more.

When I was little, back before I can even remember (because I can't remember a lot from when I was little, I'm not sure why), when I had bad dreams I would go to Mama and Daddy's bed and lay down right between them. Mama was warm and soft, kind of like Al, and Daddy was so big he scared all the bad dreams away (that's kind of like Abe), and I would stay with them until morning. One night, a long time after Mama and Daddy went away forever (that's what Al said, at least, but I don't believe in forever; they'll come back soon), I had another bad dream. I don't remember what it was about except that it made me cry, and I was so scared that I got out of bed and went to Al's room and curled up next to him.

I didn't know that it was really, really early in the morning when I got into Al's bed, and Al always gets up really early, so when I woke up it was past breakfast and I was all alone in Al's big bed. I yawned and stretched my back and couldn't really remember my bad dream at all, so I went into the kitchen to see if Abe would give me some toast.

Al was in a foul mood when I walked into the kitchen— he and Abe were arguing but stopped when I came in. When I sat down on the countertop (my favorite place to be), Al said, "Ari, please tell me _why in the world _did I wake up to find you sleeping next to me last night?" His voice made me kind of scared, and his eyes looked mad behind his silly glasses, so I shook my head and couldn't answer. But _Abe _laughed, and he handed me a piece of toast and said, "Don't be upset, Ari, he's just angry it wasn't _Gellert._"

_That _made Al splutter and choke and tell Abe to shut up, which is another naughty thing I'm not allowed to say. I don't see what's so bad about Gellert; maybe I'll take a nap with Gellert one day, because he's very nice and he has curly hair like me.

I wonder why me and Al both like Gellert so much.

* * *

**Author's Note: **Reviews would be lovely! I'm still not sure I'm so good at this first person thing… 


	8. Sickness

**Author's Note: **I think I can get to posting these once a week, which would be a miracle :P I have more time on the weekends, so expect updates again. Thanks to everyone who's been reading/reviewing this!

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_sickness_

--

Albus kept a very close eye on Ariana that day. She was not overly pleasant when she was irritated, and when she was irritated and sick, it promised a very explosive ending.

He winced as he heard her scream from her bedroom, but turned and ignored it. It was not a scream of pain, he knew, but of frustration, and Albus glanced at the clock opposite the kitchen table, wondering when it would be safe to give her more of the medicine Aberforth had fetched from St. Mungo's the night before. He breathed a sigh of relief as the clock proclaimed it noon— definitely time for another dose.

Albus took the small yellow bottle from the cabinet and carefully dripped a small amount into a cup of tea. His eyebrows drew together as he attempted to remember when Ariana had last been weighed, for the instructions on the back of the bottle said very clearly that it should be given by weight.

He scrutinized the medicine for another moment and reasoned that Healers didn't have a clue as to what they were doing nowadays and added a generous dollop of medication to his sister's tea before setting off to her room.

Ariana's bedroom was opposite his, and the first thing Albus saw upon entering it was a very pale Ari collapsed on her comforter, whimpering and sniffling. Despite himself, he felt his heart break a little and quietly walked over to her.

"Ari," he said, sitting down beside her limp frame and carefully holding the cup of medicine filled tea before him. "I have some tea for you."

"Tea?" she asked. Her voice was scratchy, and she struggled to sit up as to drink it. Albus frowned and pushed away her tangled hair, feeling vaguely out of place. Tending to the sick was, after all, a woman's job, and something he had never done before. However, stipulations such as this, as always, did not make themselves clear in Ariana head, for she sniffed once more and leaned against his chest. The tea was still scalding her throat, and she wanted quite desperately to sleep.

"Abe?" she said miserably. Albus had the fleeting thought that perhaps having him as a caregiver was just as strange to Ariana as it was to him, before answering, "He's gone out to get some food. He'll be back soon."

"Soon," she repeated. "Home soon." Albus could feel her heated forehead against his forearm, and leaned back against her bedding slightly. Her bare shoulders were sticky with perspiration, and he ran a hand through her disheveled hair.

"Would you like a bath, Ari?" he asked tentatively. She looked up at him, her eyes clouded with fever.

"Bath." She seemed to be rolling the word over on her tongue, like one of the hard candies he would never let her eat. "Cold?"

"Of course," Albus promised. "Come on, now, up you get." He moved her away from his body and stood up, grasping her hands to pull her up. Ariana swayed slightly on her feet, and he quickly wrapped an arm about her waist.

"Come on, love." She jerked away as he tried to help her out into the hallway, tossing her unwashed hair over her shoulder and saying with as much haughtiness as she could manage, "No!"

Albus held up his hands. "All right then. Walk yourself. I'll run you a bath. Why don't you go into the sitting room?" Ariana nodded and pressed her forehead briefly against the cool wood of the wall before passing her brother in the hallway. Albus hurried over to the bath, ignoring the taps and using his wand to make the water that filled it cold as ice. He knew she was boiling, and on a normal day she adored a chilly bath no matter the temperature.

He watched the water rise up, spilling from the tip of his wand in gushes, a frigid pale blue. Aberforth had said he would buy a heated cloth in Diagon Alley, one that never needed the assistance of magic to stay warm, to rest on Ari's churning stomach. She had already vomited thrice that day—once when she had woken him in the early hours before dawn, feeling unwell. Swishing his hand about in the water of her bath, Albus mused that she had first woken him, not Abe, when she was vomiting and needed help. He had thought it would be the other way around, considering she spent more time out with Abe and the goats than watching him read. Perhaps it was simply that his bedroom was closer.

"Al?"

Albus whipped around. The tub was filled to its capacity, and Ariana was standing in the doorway, her face pale and ghostly white.

"Bath?" she asked. He nodded.

"Do you want the water colder?" She sat on the edge of the bath, precariously balancing, and dipped several long, slender fingers underneath the water. A smile, rare on that day, graced her face.

"Nice, Al. Nice." Before Albus could reply or give her instructions on when to get out, Ariana had bent down and tugged the hem of her nightgown up over her legs. Feeling a blush spread over his face, Albus turned around and quickly and quietly closed the door as he left.

--

Review:)


	9. Hunger

_author's note:_ I didn't abandon my precious Ari fic! D: Promisepromisepromise. I have two more 100-word drabbles I just recently wrote that I'm adding to my 100 Quills table because I MISS WRITING ARIANA SO MUCH.

* * *

At those times when she wakes in the night, she will blink bleary, sleep-drunk eyes at her window, and move to press open the panes. Stretching out a slender arm, it seems as though she could snatch the tiny, glowing, marble stars between her fingers. And when she lets her lids slip down, lashes brushing the apples of her cheeks, she can almost feel them growing sticky in her hand, until she brushes them to her chapped lips and swallows them whole. Eyes still closed, she wonders if there are truly stars inside her, filling her up, making her glow.


	10. Companions

The garden snakes are very kind; such slithery, scaly little creatures, winding up her elbow to the soft skin beneath her arm, flicking each tiny freckle with their cold forked tongues. She lies in the grass, covered by the untrimmed weeds, and plays the part of Medusa mixed with Ophelia flawlessly. A snake twists into her hair, followed by its dozen counterparts. She reaches a hand to the sky as the words spill undaunted from her mouth, a language she speaks without understanding, _stay with me _hissed from her own naïve tongue. And oh, the blessed snakes, they obey her.


	11. Taste

The edges of the flower she holds in her cupped palms are a dusty yellow, deepening gradually to a Galleon-gold. With slim, nimble fingers she pulls an all but transparent string from the centre, thin and delicate as a spider's gossamer web. Holding it to the sun, she can see the swollen drop of honey that clings to the end; without pause, she sucks it into her mouth, its sharp sweetness coating her throat. _Honeysuckle, _she murmurs, and tosses the battered, used flower into the air. It floats for a moment in defiance, before finally sinking to the grass, wilted.


End file.
